Tomorrow it will be five years since we lost my dad. This is a blog post written over four years ago to honor him. It seemed fitting to post it again today.
“Kim Annette, you need to come
down from there. You’re high enough.” I heard my father’s voice call up to me.
I turned my head to search for him, and found him standing on the ground below,
about twenty feet from the tree in which I was climbing, making my way steadily
to the top.
“It’s okay, Dad. I won’t fall.” I
shifted my focus back to the tree. There was another branch, slightly smaller
than the one that I now grasped, just about two feet higher and to the left. If
I stood up straight and reached with my left hand, I knew I could reach it.
Then I would be able to pull myself up until I was standing on the limb that I
now held onto. I took a deep breath and stretched up until the fingers of my
left hand curled tightly around the branch. Got it! Now, for the right; but
just as I grabbed hold with both hands, snap! Suddenly I found myself hanging
upside down.
Somehow my feet had swung around
until I was hanging from my toes. The branch was on the top part of my foot and
my toes curled up, keeping me from falling.
“Kim Annette!”
“I’m okay, Dad!” I started to
reach up in order to grab the limb I was hanging from. As my hands reached it,
I dropped my legs below me, and then, crack! This time I fell to the ground in
a heap. I lay on the ground for a moment, trying to catch my breath. My dad
slowly walked over until he was standing over me.
“Well?”
“I’m okay,” I responded weakly.
“Then stand up and come inside
now.” I rose slowly until I stood beside him. “You’re lucky.”
“Yeah, I know.” I reached over and
curled my fingers around his index finger. I knew he wasn’t happy with me. I
hadn’t listened to him and as a result, I had fallen hard to the ground. He
didn’t say a word but kept walking. He knew words were not necessary.
I now look back upon that memory and as a parent I appreciate
the anxiety he must have felt as he watched his 40 pound ten year old in the
canopy of an old oak tree, farther above the ground than he would have liked to
have seen. But at the same time, he respected the independent, fearless spirit
that took me to the top of that tree. And although I had fallen hard, it didn’t
stop me from climbing more trees, and eventually climbing through mountains.
Yes, I had fallen, but his complete lack of anxiety gave me confidence to
continue striving. There was no fear. Even through the fall, I felt serene
because my daddy stood close by ready to come to my assistance if need be.
Isn’t that what a father’s love should look like? Was my dad
perfect? No, but no one is. I forgave him for his imperfections years ago,
because he forgave me for mine. Now, however, I feel a little more fearful
about the stumbles I may take in life, because my dad isn’t standing nearby to
pick up the pieces. I must remember, however, that my heavenly
Father has always been with me, and He will knit me together with unconditional
love every time I fall.
